Mad-Donna Scale
by Strzelec
Summary: Random morning two weeks after the most important night in their lives. Okay, not so random - it's Sunday, so Donna and Harvey can finally sleep off a bit. But will they get a chance to? [Post 8x16, oneshot]


(Am I naming my stories after not important parts of them? Highly probable.)

Hello darvey fans. Welcome to my first M-rated story, I hope you're gonna like it. (OH MY GOD IT WAS SO DIFFICULT TO WRITE DOWN ADULT PARTS akjafjhsflksajfh I'm such a baby jdfsdhfhklagfgaka BUT KINDA PROUD ALSO) It stands as its own story, but if you read Merida's Tale - in my own Jeremy Bearimy Darvey time continuum - events here are happening a week before this fic. Since I've got the idea for it, I was thinking of it as one-shot, but who knows what future holds...

As always, get ready for_ fucked-up-and-too-complicated_ sentences that I can't figure out how to cut on me. But I want to. And I have wanted to but...

* * *

"Harvey."

"No."

"Harvey."

"No, I don't care."

"You should."

"I'm sleeping."

"No, you're not."

"I wish I am," he snarls.

"Jesus, you're impossible. If you don't pick that call, I'm gonna do it."

"No, you're not."

"Try me," she says not really meaning it, as she turns around in his arms, so now she is facing him. Ringing doesn't stop and vocalist of Royal Deluxe starts to inform them what type of wanted man he is. "It can be Louis."

He doesn't even bother to open eyes, pulling her closer to his chest by her waist with sleepy groan. "It could be the Queen of England, I don't give a shit."

"Turn it off at least," she presses her forehead into crock of his neck.

"No, I'm comfortable like that."

"Your ringtone pisses me off. It's far too loud for this hour," like honestly, bass guitar and devilish choir is a bit too much for her lethargic state. It is supposed to be lazy Sunday morning after two_ too-fucking-long_ weeks of dealing with firm's shit.

The same one she brought upon them by breaking promise she had made Harvey and telling Thomas what was going on. What eventually resulted in Hardman's comeback, license threatening, angst and guilt feelings, Harvey doing everything to protect her, _more_ angst and guilt feelings on her side, finding out about somehow heroic Robert's disbarment while breaking up with Thomas, trying to make up for her mistake by spending afternoon and evening on coordinating upcoming changes from home via internet and calls with Louis, trying to forgive herself before she has to ask for forgiveness from others, Harvey showing up at her door late at night and… _love, love, love_.

And this is just the beginning of these crazy events she had to deal with. _Well deserved_, she thinks sometimes whilst going through another stack of papers she has to find solution for with a tired sigh. _'cause what the fuck, Donna? You should have known better. _

But those are just short moments, her criticizing little demon doing the talking and she is aware there is no good nor sense in dwelling onto that. She should be focusing on proving she is capable of indemnifying the firm temporary lack of her better judgement as the COO and that she deserves trust of her family fully back. Oh and she was given. Professionally, she hasn't heard any denunciatory comments, only fixing and _let's-do-our-best_ ones. Personally, no one hesitated to show empathy and understanding toward human nature of her fault, even Samantha cut her some slack. All the affection she experienced helped her to keep her calm and strength during the toughest period which was on its very end. New order was settling into their structures smoothly and creating normality. The storm was over.

But her work family wasn't the only source of fondness anymore.

"It doesn't have to be the only loud sound inside these walls. We can drown it down in your moans like we did last night. Or yesterday morning," he seems to be awaking now as he continues talking. Well, if not his brain than **something** **else** for sure. "Or this time in the shower. Or at your place. Or in the office restroom, _damn_ that was good, we almost got caught," his smile lazy but beaming as he recalls their latest encounters.

The sound stops after playing probably the whole tune and silence feels blissfully. Shiver goes down her spine. Because of annoying noise disappearing or his palm sliding down to rest on her hip, fingers cupping lightly her buttock, she isn't sure. Maybe both.

"Actually I have to acknowledge that **I** was the reason these moans happened," he prides, forefinger begins to make circles on her skin causing her lower abdomen to tighten a bit. It feels so goddamn right to relish in this sensation after so many years of denial. Of describing their relationship only as a friendship. Of pretending there wasn't more. Of acting like they didn't crave and need each other on every possible level.

They used to feel like they have been a part of some freaky play, scenario written years ago causing them to repeat the same mistakes again and again and again. Like approach-avoidance dance they could not synchronize to finish together, sometimes missing each other by one step, one heartbeat. Long hours of polishing their roles to perfection, filled with melody of cries and laughs and neatly knotted tension had finally – _finally_ – come to an end. Big premiere of three determined strides that happened after the feral day was salvation from their own tragedy. The melodrama that followed set them into a path of whispered endearments (_oh, Harvey_), tears of so many emotions: happiness, concern, excitement, pleasure, relief prickling in the corners of the eyes (_oh, Donna_) and _love, love, love_. Morning after felt so light and jaunty, they may as well perform some comedy.

"I'm going to be piss off with **you** if you keep this going," she reproaches him teasingly, hitching her knee up his thigh. Her voice is bit muffled but she is so close, he doesn't have a problem with hearing her jab.

"Keep going what? You talking about me being the best lover you've ever had or me doing this?" he accentuates his question by shifting his leg between hers - his nude hips create slow grinding movement - and starting to kiss the area from her shoulder to neck passionately. Her body reacts on its own accord, back arching and she doesn't try to stop it either. She has spent too much time on that already.

"I'm talking about your pompous ego and tall talk, Mister."

"Oh baby, we both know I have my tall talk_ because I fucking earned_ it," he pours into her ear while nipping on the lobe. Another shiver proceeds after realization of her own statement during their heated argument some time ago hits her. She threads her fingers through his hair as she loves to do, being the only person who has right to mess them. To mess with him. Always have. So she does, the need to go with him toe-to-toe in their banter never leaving.

"Let's check it out then, if this reputation you brag about has its integrity," she takes his face in her hands and kisses him vigorously, letting him know how much she means it. She catches only short glance before their lips meet but his extremely dilated pupils are telling her everything she needs to know. What she already knows.

He is hungry for everything that's her.

Moments pass by when bodies are meshing together even more, tongues asking and granting entrance, fingers covering every possible part of skin they have within reach. Lucky for them, they decided against clothes last night, ready to settle into fresh sheets and each other embrace. She moans into his mouth – his second favorite sound in the world – when his right palm grasps flesh of her ass and push her so flush with him, she can swear there isn't a single molecule of air between them. It causes her knee to shift higher, hook on his pelvis and his semi-hard manhood slide against her nether lips.

"I believe you beg me pardon," he breathes into her mouth, the slick wetness he witnesses is driving him crazy. He half-flips them, his frame covering her, her leg still wrapped around his body. "Because this smoothness" his hips jerk forward, no resistance between them thanks to generousness of her juices, "is screaming _take me already_."

"Is it?" she inquires, trying to sound nonchalantly. She cannot let his ego grow even bigger, can she? It's for her own good. And world's because if she let it swell in one area, for sure it's gonna build up also in others.

She lets her toes run over back of his thigh and ass in a seductive movement. "Because I don't hear anything. Getting girl wet isn't particularly difficult, you know - natural body reaction. I'm definitely gonna need more _evidence_ if you want to keep this overblown thing of yours, Mr. Specter"

"Ooooh, I've got sense you trying to suggest it's not deserved," his eyes are so dark, in other circumstances it might foreshadow troubles or anger, but right now she sees pure lust. Their game only spices it, so maybe she risks some troubles after all.

"Well, from last night I recall more your moans, especially when," her hand reaches down to wrap around his shaft and she starts to pump him up and down, "I've done the same with my _mouth_. And as far as I remember, you were almost pleading me to finish you."

Her ministrations causing him to swallow hard, memories of her blowjob skills flooding his mind. _She is _the best lover he has ever had. The synchronization they quickly found, the eagerness to give and reciprocate they share, how shameless and open she is behind a bedroom door, doing crazy thing to both his mind and body. She knows what she wants and isn't ashamed to communicate her needs (usually in vigorously vocal way), but this banter speaks to him loud and clear on its own.

It seems she desires to start the new day being completely ravished.

_As you wish, milady_.

"So you calling me a liar?" he grabs her hand to stop it from moving, he's going to need all the self-control he has and if she continues, he'll lose whole amount within minute.

"Maybe. Only if you don't prove yourself." She smiles at him teasingly and sucks on his upper lip.

"Then I don't care if the world knows it or not," she continues, the other leg joins at his back and he sinks into her even deeper without actually being in her, "I'll know it and you'll know it," she bites him, emphasizing her words, perfectly knowing how bad it's going to trigger him.

Their words similar to ones they used in the fight, pretty hurtful but they created them usage in the new reality they chose. They ridicule such lines, both aware mocking the past is a method to let old wounds and scratches heal. Sounds a bit tricky and possibly backfiring, although voicing bitter or agonizing statements gathered within their history appear to be working in their favor. Even though this manner is like eighty percent straightforward, it is a lot more direct than they had before and they haven't become completely different people during one night. It is not some fictional story written by naïve twenty years old amateur, for God's sake. Yes, they broke infelicitous status quo, yet they have remained same complicated souls with history of avoidance. This couldn't change so easily.

Albeit now – two weeks after they found new possibilities laying ahead and were willing to face them – they have made a hell of a progress. Oh, the enthusiasm they put into that, _damn_. Who would have thought the same furious energy they used in fall outs could be transferred and utilized into mind blowing love making? And what is better than replacing noxious memories with mischievous ones?

She knows exactly which buttons push and he feels his body being overwhelmed by force cursing through it. In one swift movement he pins both her wrists above her head and when he looks at her reaction, she fucking dares to wear this sultry smile on.

That second ravishing her feels nowhere near enough.

He kisses her hard, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth. He shifts his bodyweight on the forearm that holds her hands still, right palm starts journey down her body. She thinks she's the only one here to make the other beg for finish? _Oooh, I'm gonna prove her so fucking wrong_.

She doesn't resist him but neither she tries to free her arms. She can manage without touching him despite what he may think, even though she finds this _fifty-shades-of-Specter_ move sexy. But to even the score, she closes one foot upon another, creating embrace behind his back, feeling his hard member graze her entrance. He tightens his grip, the only yet sufficient indication it didn't go unnoticed.

His hand settles on her breast, kneading it till her nipple is hard and waiting for him as his lips leave her breathless. She pants, inhaling air in rapid takes and feeling open mouthed kisses on the column of her neck. He's not careful, marking her with teeth here and there in the same time his thumb and forefinger play with delicate skin, the foretaste to what he is going to do soon.

Whimper escapes her mouth when he sucks on her collarbone. He's well aware he has reached first sensitive spot, like in Operation but instead of red light and buzzing, his senses register red hair splayed over the pillow and moans. He changes hand beneath her head and leans more on his right side, the position giving his lips better access to her nipple… And his hardon to her clit.

He continues down, circling her breast with kisses, giving special attention toward her underboob and licking her here. It makes her hips restless and she starts rubbing herself on his manhood, another sob escaping her mouth. In response he growls low and leaves hickey on her skin and that's the first time her hands involuntarily shoot to his hair, unsuccessfully. His free hand moves to lay flat against her hip bone, stilling her motion. She lets out frustrated sound.

"And I've just started, babe," he mutters as he locks his gaze with her. "I hope after I'm finished you'll have all the evidence you need."

Just as words leave him, he dives in, devours the nipple as if his life depended on it. Even his hold on her body doesn't stop her from arching her back, the only way to be closer to him despite being almost as close as it's physically possible. _Almost._

"Fuck, Harvey."

He smiles at her swear and play with her tit, sucking it like a lollipop, reenacting what she did to him the night before. Giving and receiving in its whole beauty, it's time for some teeth scratching, pain mixing with pleasure the best combination.

Donna screams out again, but tightens her legs around him and tries to break his solid demeanor. She can perfectly feel how turned on he is and knowing him well, it's just the matter of attempts to make him take her as she needs. But she's not that desperate, the dominance game is still on and she doesn't have to admit his victory yet (Donna, dear, are you aware in what position he has you?).

Not pleased with her misbehavior, he smacks her bottom once and frees her nipple with wet_ pop_ that get lost in the surprise sound she makes. Looking at her sparks another fire inside him, possessive flare heated by sight of her half-closed eyelids, lips making small 'o' shape, body flushed and marked by him. Fresh wave of lust wash over him and he wish to have more control as he shifts to treat her other breast in the same manner, his hips start grinding into her.

Her hands try to find themselves on his body again, but he is pinning her down with the same force as earlier and it works on her. Hard. The rhythm he creates is slow, torturously slow, too damn torturously slow in her opinion and she urges him to quicken up, but this… _idiot_ won't listen.

"Fuck, Harvey," she tries, prolonging his name, this time her moan sounds more pleading.

Surrender is coming closer and closer with each stroke of his tongue and each push of his hips, but the question is – who's? He feels his self-control slipping and desire to drown in her takes its place in rapid tempo. He also needs her to be on the edge, yet not crossing it, the final reward will be granted if she admits his reputation is well-deserved. Of course he knows that she knows it is, but she challenged him first and he's not the one to walk away from the battle.

"Two words and you gonna get the dick you want so bad," he promises, deciding upon dirty talk to be his bargain card. Actually, dirty talk and rubbing her clit with his forefinger.

"Not so bad," she breathes, biting on her lower lip. His mouth intrudes her with a hot kiss, movements of his lips in the synchronization with his digit, he can feel her body begins to shake.

"Babe, I've already stripped you off of this _I'm Donna_ thing," it would sound more convincingly if he wouldn't pant almost as hard as she does and his member wouldn't throb so _nastily_ as it does, but fine, whatever. "You're lying there so ready for me, you cannot move, I have you on the edge…"

He watches her expression changing, like she's searching for right words to admit her defeat without actually saying that (after all, he cannot strip her off of every aspect of being Donna) and he notices his pulse rising, his body reacting to what is about to come. The tension between them is almost material, makes air heavy to breath. She opens up her mouth and he's there, already shifting to position himself at her entrance, when-

She turns her head in the crock of her neck and sneezes.

Opening her eyes, she sees him so dumbfounded, dark chocolate eyes fixed on hers and not blinking. Chuckle starts to itch in her throat, the overwhelming need to have him buried inside softening a bit and he says –

"Ugh!" using same tone as when he played the scene from Clueless, scrunching his face in the same manner.

She bursts out laughing and he follows, his forehead resting on her uninfected side of collarbone, light and cheerful noises echoing through the room. He releases her hands and she wraps them around his neck, feeling happy tears gathering in in the corners of her eyes. When their gazes meet again, hungry energy is gone, replaced by something blissfully domestic. She grins broadly and moves her palms to cup his cheeks.

"What about this dick I was getting?"

"Yours if you tell me I won," he smiles best charming Cheshire Cat smile as he runs his hand up her body from its position, creating goosebumps on her skin.

"You _fucking earned it_," she declares honestly and brings his face to kiss him, threading her fingers through his hair. Still turned on, she gives him sign with her hips to continue their previous activity.

He finally pushes his hardness into her soft opening (giddy feeling not leaving him) and it causes them both to moan. That's where the magic dance starts.

Missionary position often underrated, Harvey finds it his favorite, because he can watch all of Donna's reactions, control the speed and the angle, experience the tight embrace of her legs and red lines of pleasure she leaves on his back. Just as she does right now. They move back and forth, easy, natural rhythm of their bodies generating new type of tension. She focuses on kissing his neck and shoulder, tingling sensation only adding to the stirring desire deep in his groin. He feels his lips forming into another grin, _love, love, love_ cursing through his veins.

Soon enough their pace quickens, evidently the result of steamy foreplay they shared. Harvey takes one of Donna's hands in his, kisses her knuckles and locks their fingers together, resting them beside her head. She grants him with loving expression, eyes gleaming with affection before she closes them, strong orgasm building in her and makes her toes curl.

For the next minutes only sounds within bedroom walls are cries and groans and pants and wet noises of their bodies colliding. At some point he shifts his hips slightly to the left side and new angle he's hitting into her makes her reach the extasy, breathy _I love you _leaving her lips in process. He follows behind her, the sensation of tight waves on his member and her declaration too good to resist. After the culmination he halts his movements, hides his face in the crock of her neck and she soothes marks on his back with her palms.

Seated and spent, they rest in that position a moment, prolonging inevitable trip to the bathroom.

"You're crashing me."

"Am I?" he questions in querulous way, pretty comfortable where he is.

"Shoo," she states, moving her hands higher and running them through his damp hair.

He groans lazily but eventually rolls of her bringing her with him, to make her lay on her side with head on his chest. Isn't it obvious enough who is the cuddler in that relationship?

"You okay?" he asks after a while, his eyes closed.

"Hmm… In general – yes, but I don't know, I might be little grumpy today. You didn't let me sleep these terrible two weeks off," she fakes pout, teasingly biting pulse point on his neck. He might be well-practiced but she is a goddess, he should remember that.

"I didn't wake you up. Some idiot did."

"But you made sure I wasn't falling asleep again after all."

"Then it's gonna be three at most, but you wasn't complaining at the time so I think I'm good," he sounds unaffected. "I can get away without the trouble with five. And still get lucky even if it was seven," he probably overshares, but his pride has taken an advantage on him.

"What type of crazy system is it?"

"My Mad-Donna scale," he chuckles, pleased with how words played together. "You get it? It's funny because it's sounds like Madonna but it's actually your name and mad in one word," he explains joke in his usual manner. He feels her disentangle and it passes his thoughts that she might have hit three and half now. Funny though, it's easier to sooth her than irritate her as he's learned pretty soon after they started dating two weeks ago. He hasn't noticed such dynamics before (okay, he was basically **sure it wasn't** there) which only added to his curiosity.

Apparently Donna Paulsen - treasured by whole spectrum of Harvey Specter's treatment on a daily basis - is getting less and less resistant to his charms. Jesus, he had to work on her thirteen years! _Screwing up each and every time, making her hurt hardly seems like 'working on her', dude. _Ugh, he can hear Mike in his head as clearly as he would been reciting that straight to his ear. Fate hates him because his voice of reason in Donna's department sounds like his former protégé. _If it wasn't for me, you would be still alone with this stupid sorry ass of yours. _

"Oooh no, you didn't, Mister," she says in disbelief, propping herself on the elbow. Her movements causing him to open eyes and he blinks slowly getting used to brightness in his bedroom again. After a few seconds he focuses his gaze on redhead in front of him, hazel eyes meeting chocolate ones.

"I didn't what?"

"You created a scale helping you recognize how mad I am at you?" she inquires, her expression inscrutable.

"I don't need anything to recognize how mad you are, it just labels if I'm in trouble or not."

She might tease him about it or get angry, but honestly she feels so pleased right now, she lets this information slip by and asks about the earlier call. Tiny fraction of her professional liability is grimacing on them ignoring so early call on day off which could mean emergency, especially after what they had just gone through. But it was just single one, so it couldn't be that bad. _And we deserve some peace and privacy, for God's sake._ "So are you? Was it business?"

"It's Mike. Bastard, he knows it's better for him to not wake me up and yet he decided to do this anyway. Well, lucky bastard that I had beautiful woman by my side to stop me from ending him," he mutters as he opens text he hasn't even heard he got from him. She sees him slowly raising his head, the look of disbelieve written all over his face. And then they hear loud and all too familiar set of knocks at the door.

"_**What the fuck?**_" is all he can manage, finally speaking out loud the first thought that popped into his head after reading the message.

Donna laughs out surprised with excellence irony of the situation. Perhaps it resembles fictional story on some level, this goddamn kiddo playing games with her characters and bringing them friend who's living over six hours of flight away. On a Sunday morning. After mind-blowing sex. _Diabolical little thing,_ she thinks entertained.

"I guess **you are** in trouble. And Mike isn't the person who's gonna be ended this time."

"**We are.** He will crush **us **with this whole annoying Mikeness after eight years of dropping comments," he says arching his brow at her. There is no chance in the goddamn universe Mike isn't going to come up with some crappy speech about waiting far too long, Harvey being an absolute idiot, how he has been rooting for them for years and shit like that. If constantly nagging at him Mike in his head wasn't enough for a punishment.

"No, not us. I'm going into the shower," she quickly pulls out of the bed before he has time to react, her nude frame honoring his view. She sends him mischievous smile – same he got after their lips crushed together two weeks ago - and disappears into wardrobe for a second to collect underwear she left here and steal a T-shirt and pair of boxers. "Have fun, babe" she shouts from inside.

He sits abruptly and tilts his head with _you've-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me_ expression. "Donna, I** promise** if you do that, you'll have to develop your own scale," he does what he does the best. He threatens. His bad she has never been intimidated by him, ever. "And it'd better be numbered in dozens."

She doesn't respond when she swiftly passes short distance from his dressing room – that becomes theirs with each her dress hanging next to his suits – to the bathroom, holding garments in one hand, blowing him a kiss with another. She is making him a fool, completely unashamed with her nudity and filled with a proper self-esteem related to her body.

She watches from the corner of her eye as he gulps while observing her breasts bouncing with each rushed movement. So she adds extra swing to her hips while pushing bathroom door open, certain where his eyes landed the second she turned her back toward him. Then she promptly shuts her barrier closed, very pleased with her way out of the situation. Later she will just come out being awesome and let Mike be happy for her, _for them_.

New set of insisting knocks erupts behind front door and so does his growl, as he puts his bare feet on the wooden floor.

"I'm coming," he yells into direction of the entrance, pulling on fresh boxers. He grabs white T-shirt and gray sweatpants from the armchair and puts them on, walking to meet inevitable. _Fuck you, Mike and your timing_, he muses half agitated and half actually amused (but he's not going to admit **that)**, as his hand covers the lock and opens it. For all of the people that could disclose their still secret relationship, it has to be his living almost three thousand miles away best friend. _Let's get over it. _


End file.
